


Only Him

by lost_stickie_note



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 乐华七子NEXT | NEX7, 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Biting are the cutest, But I Love Them, Fluff, I love Jeffrey, Like brief mention of morning wood, M/M, Mostly because I fucked up and didn't watch the show first, Non of this is canon compliant, RIP me, a sprinkle of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-07 14:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21459607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_stickie_note/pseuds/lost_stickie_note
Summary: Wenjun realizes how much Zhengting means to him.
Relationships: Bi Wenjun/Zhu Zhengting | Jung Jung
Comments: 18
Kudos: 58





	Only Him

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh, happy 22nd birthday Bi Wenjun!! I have had this written for a while but hadn't gotten around to looking it through before posting, but I wanted to post something soon. I am _still_ working on the Bitingkun angst that I desperately want to finish, ooof. This is loosely based off of Fantasy Restaurant, but it's a bit inaccurate as I had started writing before watching the actual episodes. APOLOGIES. But I love the two of them so much~~ + my egg boy, Jeffrey. 😭
> 
> I hope you all like this. -blows kisses- And just as a side note: I will not be abandoning the NPC/IPD ficdom any time soon, so I guess expect to see more fics from me in the future though it might be slow going.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta reader~~ ♡♡♡
> 
> Any comments, kudos, and feedback are always appreciated!
> 
> Twitter: [@loststickienote](https://twitter.com/loststickienote)

Wenjun never really thought he liked boys until Zhu Zhengting.

His first crush had been a girl in middle school. She had long beautiful jet-black hair, braided into two pigtails, tied off at the end with a splash of color, different ones each day. And he had spent his time sitting behind her in class, pulling at them, enamored with her hair, until one day, she turned around angrily and _made _him apologize. He had stared at her, dumbstruck and in awe. The next week, he had asked her to be his girlfriend even though he didn’t quite know what the word meant. But they spent the next few months holding hands and hanging out together in the carefree way that only kids could.

And each and every love after that had also been a girl.

So no, maybe he didn’t think that the way he felt about Zhengting had been anything more than just platonic.

The first time he saw Zhengting he thought the other boy was cute.

Because he was, undeniably.

Zhengting had been pouting the first time Wenjun met him. Looking back now, it was ironic. He had arrived the first day of trainee status and had been directed towards the practice rooms in the building. After wandering down a seemingly endless number of hallways, he finally found the correct room, pushing open the door and expecting fellow trainees to be working hard. Zhengting was the first person he saw, the pout gracing his features like it belonged there, and Wenjun had marveled at how the expression didn’t contort the other boy’s face into an awkwardness that sometimes came with a pout. The other boy’s hair was halfway in his eyes, and Wenjun had the insane urge to sweep it away, his fingers itching to push back the hair off the forehead of this boy he didn’t know.

“Yeah, Zhengting, we’re not doing that.”

“But I want to.”

And maybe Wenjun would have given in to anything this stranger said at that moment.

He didn’t find out until later that the other boy deftly turning down Zhengting’s repeated pleas was in fact the younger one.

Wenjun didn’t know how Justin was able to resist.

The irony.

Zhengting was made up completely of energetic laughter, big movements, and a mess of limbs that always seemed to be moving in opposite directions except for when he was dancing. Wenjun couldn’t believe it when he saw Zhengting dance. All of a sudden, the other boy was a mixture of serious expressions, weightlessness, and graceful motions, right down to his fingertips that swept through the air, parting the way.

Saying _I’ve arrived_.

There was no other way to describe it. Each time Zhengting danced, it was a statement, a _defining moment_, and the older boy always managed to make everyone feel like they were a _part of it_, not just standing on the sidelines watching. Wenjun felt enamored with this piece of Zhengting, and he wondered if one day, he too could captivate an audience in the same way. A feeling in which each second felt like he was witnessing something so desperately intimate and private that he could almost cry out of amazement.

That feeling was what made Zhengting magical.

Wenjun didn’t know how much Zhengting was a part of his routine until the week he was gone. They had been stuck in a whirlwind week, anxious to get down their group choreography and other songs for their monthly evaluations before the holidays. What had followed were late nights that drifted into early mornings as they all practiced, until their legs gave out, their eyes drooped with a sleepiness they couldn’t fight off any longer. And Zhengting, oh, Zhengting. He had never quite seen somebody inhale as much food as the other boy. Wenjun never appreciated just how much the older boy ate as when they were training. Zhengting had brought all the food to their practice rooms that week, a seemingly endless amount of snacks on top of their meals. _It was amazing that Zhengting didn’t gain weight. _

And Wenjun supposed it was due to all the effort the older boy put into it. The hours and hours of dedication and hard work. Always the first one in and the last one out. Not to mention the carrying the burden of being the eldest, needing to set a good example as the leader. Zhengting would be the first one up in the morning, going around to all their rooms and gathering the kids for the day. And that week, Zhengting seemed to have permanent dark circles pasted under his eyes.

Sometimes the kids were not well-behaved.

Wenjun had found the older boy in an empty practice room one night, forgetting to take a jacket he had carelessly thrown in the corner earlier in the day. He had been about to walk in when he heard Zhengting. Sobbing. And he had breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t opened the door further, that the older boy hadn’t looked up at the sound of the door, his head buried in his arms, his knees pulled up to his chest.

Yes, Zhengting had it rough.

Wenjun knew this.

He had scolded the younger ones furiously, making sure they wouldn’t give Zhengting any more trouble than they already had.

And Zhengting had seemed much happier the next day when everyone listened and no one gave him sass, and the next few days passed peacefully and uneventfully.

But then all of a sudden, Zhengting was gone, off to spend time with his family for the holidays, and Wenjun suddenly didn’t know what to do with himself. Sure, he had spent time with his own family too, but he couldn’t help but turn to his side automatically when he heard something, almost expecting Zhengting to be next to him, lighting up with that huge smile and bright laughter. But of course, the older boy wasn’t there, and Wenjun felt like a piece was missing.

He had never been so happy to see Zhengting than after that first holiday, his best friend yelling and running up to envelop him in a huge hug when they met again, chattering on about the presents he had brought back for the little sprouts.

Wenjun had been quite envious that he wasn’t the only one receiving a present.

And he told himself that it was perfectly _normal_ to be jealous. Jealous that his best friend was becoming closer to all these other boys during Idol Producer, his voice interlaced with fondness as he talked about them. Wenjun could always tell when Zhengting _liked liked _someone too, able to catch all the signs that Zhengting wasn’t even aware of. The uncharacteristic shyness that would sometimes come through when the older boy talked to a crush, so different from the usual unapologetic brashness that Zhengting carried himself with. The older boy had once confessed to him that he sometimes tried to be more serious around the guys he liked, thinking that it showed multiple sides to his personality, not just the outer surface. Wenjun had told him to knock it off, that there was no need for Zhengting to change for anyone.

He was perfect the way he was.

The jealousy never lasted long though. Inevitably, Zhengting would move on from a crush, especially if the boy wasn’t around long enough for Zhengting to get really attached. Out of sight, out of mind. The older boy was like a hummingbird, flitting around in a frenzied dance of color with quickly beating wings, aimlessly landing on different flowers, never staying for long. He sometimes wondered how Zhengting expected him to keep track of all the minute details of each crush during their conversations. He was grateful that each crush was fleeting, gone before he even had time to know too much.

Wenjun was the only person Zhengting didn’t move on from.

He was Zhengting’s rock, comforting and strong, and most importantly, always there. And sometimes he wondered how someone so carefree and vibrant was satisfied having him as a friend.

But he was grateful that his was the hand Zhengting reached out for.

Either way, the thought had never _really_ crossed his mind that he could possibly _like_ his best friend.

Because that would be stupid, crazy, impossible.

Well, cue the impossible becoming _possible._

Because Wenjun is frozen.

He can’t move.

Because he opened his eyes, and the first thing he sees in the morning is Zhengting’s sleeping face, his best friend snuggled up against his body tightly, his arm carelessly thrown over Wenjun’s waist, pulling him in close. And Zhengting is the picture of perfection, his long eyelashes dark against his pale milky skin, his plump pink lips slightly parted, almost as if the older boy is having a dream where he is being surprised. _His hair. _The older boy’s normally perfectly styled hair is sticking up in various spots, a messiness from rolling around too often in his sleep. Wenjun can only look on silently in horror as Zhengting mumbles, still fast asleep, and comes even closer to him, the tip of his nose nuzzling into Wenjun’s neck.

He stays frozen still until finally he feels Zhengting stirring in his sleep, the telltale signs of waking up coming from his best friend.

Zhengting’s eyelashes flutter open beautifully as he waits, peeking up at him, a smile sneaking its way sleepily on to his face as he looks at Wenjun. “Good morning, Wenjun.”

The older boy doesn’t seem to be phased by the fact that he’s wrapped around Wenjun upon waking up. Not in the same way Wenjun is. And the thought briefly crosses his mind that maybe the older boy is used to this type of closeness with people, and he can’t help the flare of jealousy that burns a hole in the pit of his stomach.

God, of all things, jealousy at people he doesn’t even know exist.

But Zhengting had been the one to suggest they push their beds together, forming a bigger sized bed for them to sleep on. _Might as well be comfortable. _He had declared with a smile, and Wenjun had readily agreed.

He wishes desperately that he can go back in time and object to the idea.

Zhengting gets up with a hum and makes his way out of the room to start his day, and finally Wenjun feels his limbs relax, wound too tight and almost painful from the effort of staying still for so long. But even then, he can’t bring himself to move from the bed, needing a few moments to collect himself.

Because goddamn, he is still hard, and it doesn’t help that he keeps thinking about running his hand through Zhengting’s messy bed hair, pulling him close, and kissing his best friend until they both can’t breathe.

Yes, Wenjun didn’t think he liked boys before, but apparently, all it took was one very specific boy to change that.

Only him.

\---

He’s totally fucked.

Beyond fucked.

Screwed to the nth degree quite frankly.

Because liking Zhengting is the absolute last thing that should happen to him.

Wenjun groans as he stares up at the white ceiling, an overwhelming number of thoughts running through his head. _This can’t be happening. _He turns over on to his stomach and screams into the pillow as quietly as possible. _This can’t be happening. _He thinks about Zhengting again for a minute and then resumes silently screaming into his pillow.

_I’m so fucked._

Because Zhengting doesn’t like him like that.

At least, not _anymore._

Because Zhengting did.

Zhengting _had._

It had been one of the most awkward conversations they had ever had as friends. Maybe Wenjun shouldn’t have been surprised when Zhengting had just confessed like it was no big deal. After all, the older boy was never afraid to make his affections known after he felt comfortable. Wenjun had known this from watching his best friend flirt with other guys, bold and daring in his advances. He had never imagined that Zhengting would one day turn to him and say it.

“I like you, Wenjun.”

He had spit out his water, and Zhengting had looked on quietly with a serious expression, patting his back as he coughed, trying to keep himself from choking. “What do you mean, Zhengting?” He had laughed nervously while looking at his friend. “Are you joking?”

“No.” Zhengting had shrugged simply, shaking his head. “I’m not.”

Wenjun’s words had come out slowly and carefully, not wanting to lose his best friend. “Zhengting, I don’t like guys. I’m sorry.”

Zhengting had looked at him, a pained expression on his face. “Okay, don’t worry. I’ll get over it.”

He had wanted to comfort the older boy at the time, but he was not sure how to, placing his hand awkwardly on Zhengting’s shoulder. It turned out, he didn’t need to know the right thing to do as his best friend laid his head on his shoulder automatically. Wenjun could only tell that the older boy was crying from the little sniffles that would intermittently break the silence between them.

They had never talked about it again.

And a few months later, Zhengting returned to his bubbly self around Wenjun, and he had felt pure and utter relief in his heart that things were back to normal.

_Normal, my ass._

Wenjun has the distinct urge to go back in time and perhaps murder his past self at this moment.

Because he had turned down _Zhengting._

Not only that, but now Zhengting thought he wasn’t interested in guys.

And is there really any way to tell Zhengting that the e_xact_ instant he realized he was interested is when he woke up in bed next to the older boy with a raging hard-on?

One that definitely isn’t going away either.

Wenjun screams again into the pillow.

\---

He pauses in the doorway to calm himself before walking into the kitchen. They are supposed to start filming soon, the day packed with a tight schedule. The night before, they all sat down to talk about their experiences with cooking, and Wenjun had felt his heart sink as not one person in the group of guys spoke with confidence about their cooking skills. _It’s going to be a long day. _He spots Zhengting a few paces away, putting an apron on, ready to start cooking. Wenjun smiles fondly to himself as he sees the older boy bite his lower lip in concentration, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to keep them clean. He spots the untied back of Zhengting’s apron, and he is just about to say something but the words die on his lips.

“Oh, thanks.” Zhengting turns around automatically, slight surprise written over his features as he sees Jeffrey who is pulling at the apron to tie a bow at Zhengting’s back.

Jeffrey nods in response, walking past Zhengting to make his way towards the stovetops.

Zhengtjing smiles at him brightly when he stops in front of the older boy to grab an apron off the pile. “Oh hey, Wenjun. Are you ready to see me cook?”

Wenjun laughs, patting Zhengting’s shoulder playfully. “Cook? More like ready to see you try and not burn down this building.”

“Hey! That’s not fair.” The other boy’s lips are drawn into a pout, and Wenjun feels his heart beat quicken, painfully aware of this new, unfamiliar sensation, a reaction he’s _never _had to Zhengting before. It’s not that he hadn’t realized how attractive Zhengting is, but Wenjun thinks the full effect is just hitting him now, all those years of watching Zhengting, beautiful Zhengting charm everyone he’s ever met. And he feels his heart clench again as the older boy breaks out into another dazzling smile. Wenjun doesn’t think he’s ever noticed just how bright and shiny Zhengting’s teeth are.

“I’m going to be great at this.” The other boy declares.

Zhengting is decidedly not great at cooking.

Three hours later and Wenjun has perhaps saved the older boy from potentially injuring himself exactly two times, but that doesn’t include the near misses that the other boys prevent. He had thought the worst thing he’d have to watch for is Zhengting narrowly missing his fingers while using the sharp knives to cut vegetables, but he is wrong. Wenjun can’t keep track of the number of times Zhengting’s beautifully long and normally graceful fingers have passed far too close to the flames of the stove for his liking. The older boy even manages to almost knock over a pan sitting on the stove just by turning around.

“Cut!”

Zhengting scurries over to him when the lunch rush is finished, his face scrunched up in what Wenjun knows is his take on a look of dissatisfaction, most likely stemming from his abysmal display of cooking skill the whole morning. And he automatically lifts his arm so that the older boy can burrow into his chest, hiding his face. “What’s wrong Zhengting? I know I joked about you burning down the building, but I was sort of kidding. You usually aren’t _this _bad at cooking at our dorms.” He can barely hear the mumbled words coming from the older boy. “What?”

The other boy detaches from him so that Wenjun can clearly hear Zhengting’s words. “I said, I’m just nervous because of the cameras.”

“It’s okay, just be yourself, like on Idol Producer.” Wenjun looks on with surprise as Jeffrey walks up, casually slinging his arm over Zhengting’s shoulder as if it’s natural, as if he belongs there. And Zhengting doesn’t even flinch, tilting his head slightly towards the other boy to whine. The whole thing bothers Wenjun more than it should, and he needs to work hard to push down the urge to punch the other boy in the face for no reason. _God, what’s wrong with me. _He shakes his head to clear his thoughts, returning back to the conversation at the tail end of Jeffrey’s words. “…and everyone loves you just the way you are, so don’t worry.”

“Thank you, Jeffrey.” Zhengting’s voice is full of gratefulness and moderate surprise. The other boy just nods, offering a small smile, before walking away to grab his things.

The older boy turns to him. “That was actually kind of sweet.”

Wenjun feels like a traitor to himself as he agrees quickly with Zhengting, wanting to interject that _it’s not that sweet and I tell you that all the time_ but knowing the words will just come out ugly and petty. So he swallows his pride and plays along, feeling a sinking feeling start in the pit of his stomach as Zhengting smiles at the other boy across the room.

He keeps a close eye on the older boy for the rest of the afternoon, concerned that Zhengting will unintentionally hurt himself _somehow_ because of course the older boy would be the first to do so, always stupidly brazen about putting in maximum effort without a care for his own well-being. He still remembers that time Zhengting ended up collapsing in the middle of practice, hell-bent on perfecting their group routine and not telling anyone that he was running a fever. The rest of the members had gathered around his bed in concern, bringing him soup and cold compresses for his forehead, anxiously watching until the older boy had irritably shooed them all out, insisting that they pay him no mind and go practice instead. Wenjun had snuck back into Zhengting’s room later that night, nervously brushing the other boy’s sweat slicked hair off his forehead as the older boy mumbled nonsense words in his dreams, wracked with fever. He wasn’t able to sleep a wink that night, keeping watch by Zhengting’s bedside.

Zhengting is a stupid mess, but he’s _Wenjun’s _stupid mess.

Wenjun can’t help the sigh of relief that comes out when they wrap up cooking for the day, thankful that no more mishaps occurred with the older boy. _I didn’t imagine that filming this show would be so stressful. _He feels as if the day has already taken ten years off his life, and all he wants to do now is unwind and forget about his responsibilities. _Maybe I should just crawl in bed. _The thought seems tempting, and he properly excuses himself from the table early at dinnertime, tapping the older boy on the shoulder. “Zhengting, I’m going to sleep first.”

A trace of alarm crosses Zhengting’s face, his eyebrows raised in concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just tired.”

And he is, flopping on the bed as soon as he goes upstairs, sleep threatening to overwhelm him almost immediately, with only his common sense forcing him to brush his teeth and change into pajamas while half-asleep. He barely registers Zhengting coming to bed later in the night, the fierce whispering and muffled giggling at the door drifting into his dreams like a forgotten memory, the ruffling of the sheets next to him. He doesn’t know whether he imagines it, the soft goodnight from Zhengting’s lips next to his ear, the other boy’s steady breathing lulling him into a deeper sleep.

Wenjun wakes up first the next day, something he is grateful for as he wakes up with morning wood again, something that would never have bothered him in the past except for the fact that his cock twitches when he looks at the quietly slumbering Zhengting in his bed, the older boy’s face tucked slightly into his chest, his knees coming up towards his stomach, curled into a small ball. He heads straight for the shower, attempting to think of absolutely anything else besides Zhengting as he palms his cock and rubs one out. Wenjun almost fools himself into thinking he can make it, almost succeeding, if not for the last few moments, the thought of Zhengting, half-asleep drowsy Zhengting, waking up next to him also with morning wood.

He finishes far quicker than he expects.

Needless to say, it doesn’t work.

Wenjun nearly has a heart attack when he walks out of their bathroom, the older boy sitting up in bed, the oversized t-shirt almost drowning Zhengting in its depths, the hem stopping halfway down the other boy’s thighs. Zhengting is rubbing the sleep from his eyes, not aware of Wenjun staring straight at him. The sight tugs at his heartstrings. Because it’s not just any t-shirt. It’s _his_, his favorite one that Zhengting sometimes steals to wear, claiming that he doesn’t have nearly anything as comfortable in his closet stuffed full of designer brands. Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have bothered him much seeing the older boy in his shirt, but today it does, a churning feeling in his stomach starting to turn into pangs.

“Good morning, Wenjun.” Zhengting’s shoulder naturally brushes against his as the older boy walks to the bathroom to get ready, leaving Wenjun frozen in the middle of the room alone wondering whether he had done something in his past life to deserve the palpitations pounding in his chest.

\---

Wenjun doesn’t have time to worry about his newly discovered and acutely raw feelings that seem to invade his thoughts with each time he even looks in the older boy’s direction. He is too busy making himself as useful as possible, cursing as the coffee machine doesn’t bend to his desperate will, spending far too long searching for that damned coffee grinder, before a long hour of trial and experiment for every drink on the menu. The only moment he gets with the older boy is bringing a sip of coffee up to Zhengting’s lips, needing a taste tester, not trusting his own taste. Zhengting is far more accustomed to coffee, seemingly inhaling cups far too quickly for Wenjun to keep count, the fuel to keep his high motor running during the day, with not even a minute left for rest.

The rhythmic work keeps his mind away, too concentrated on his small detail-oriented tasks and attempting to help both Jeffrey and Justin out in the front, the two of them running around in a half-panicked state the entire morning. But they manage with some side help from him, the two of them a lot quicker on their feet than he had given them credit for previously. And all he hears of Zhengting are the shouts of alarm at every turn, and Wenjun needs to remind himself that he does not need to step into the kitchen each time they happen, that Zhengting is a grown adult that can handle his own mess.

Even though it makes him nervous, his ears too sensitive and attuned to the older boy’s feelings, the urge to rush to Zhengting’s side immediately almost overpowering.

He congratulates himself for resisting the entirety of the day.

And he’s so absorbed in his own self-morale boost that the scene doesn’t register the instant he walks into the kitchen later on in the afternoon. Zhengting is cooking, his left hand grasping the handle and lightly tossing the food in the pan as his right hand holds the chopsticks to stir. It all seems so normal and nondescript that he doesn’t notice Jeffrey at first, the other boy standing slightly behind Zhengting but still far too close, holding a bowl of food, a spoon being led gently towards Zhengting’s mouth. And Wenjun watches as the older boy’s mouth parts to accept the rice, his lips slightly pursed as he chews, his cheeks blown out slightly filled with food.

Still, it is an innocuous gesture, one that he’s seen countless times before, the other members in NEX7 finding plenty of instances to shovel food into Zhengting’s mouth, but in the next moment, Jeffrey leans forward, closer to the older boy to whisper something in his ear. And Zhengting does his little head tilt, the one he makes when he’s trying to be coquettish, the angle that shows off the sharp angle of his jawline, his exposed collarbones carving a groove into which Wenjun knows is the perfect spot to start planting kisses trailing up the older boy’s neck. There is no gap, the perfect little space between the two of them wiped out, Jeffrey’s lips brushing the other boy’s earlobe.

It’s the nervous gulp from Zhengting that forces him to flee the kitchen.

Wenjun doesn’t join the rest of them for dinner, making an excuse of feeling ill and heading up to bed immediately after the cameras turn off. He pretends he’s asleep when Zhengting comes in the room to check on him, his voice heavily laced with worry. And he stays as still as possible as Zhengting fusses, placing a glass of water on the bedside stand next to his side of the bed, grabbing an extra blanket to lay over the think sheet he has pulled up to his chin, making sure to keep the bathroom light off, the room lit only by the glow from the older boy’s phone.

This time he does hear Zhengting say good night.

\---

Zhengting is gone from their bed when he wakes up, the fitful sleep overnight contributing to his slow start to the day and the bags under his eyes, a feature he wouldn’t have even noticed if not for Zhengting’s mirror in the bathroom that only serves to show him how large his pores are. There is no cause to see the older boy again today, with Zhengting confined to the kitchen and him to his drinks area. And he tries hard to ignore it, but he can’t help the sinking feeling in his chest each time Jeffrey makes his way back into the kitchen, the imaginary thoughts in his head wrecking more havoc than the scene from yesterday.

It feels like forever since he’s talked to Zhengting, and it’s only been half a day. Wenjun wonders if this is what other people feel, not having someone like Zhengting in their lives to constantly put them on edge, the danger of excitement and possibility of something interesting happening held over their heads like a weapon of mass destruction. And for the first time in a long while, Wenjun feels what it’s like to have a boring day, one made up of stringing together one small task to another, rinse and repeat.

A scream snaps him out of his thoughts, the high-pitched squeal coming unmistakably from Zhengting, and it is almost inhuman, different from the variety of noises the older boy had made yesterday. Wenjun doesn’t stop to think, his body reacting to the sound faster than his mind possibly could, and in an instant, he is beside Zhengting, his hands reaching for the older boy’s his eyes searching for the problem. Which is immediately apparent, the gash over Zhengting’s finger looking somewhat deep, the red already staining the paper towel that the older boy has wrapped around the wound.

“Let me get you a bandage.”

He wraps it up as nicely as he can, Zhengting not saying a word as he does, uncharacteristically quiet for once, only the sound of a few painful winces escaping his lips. Wenjun can hear each sharp intake of breath as he tightens the bandage with every turn, finally ending with some medical tape to secure it in place.

“You need to be more careful, Zhengting.” The words come out a tad rougher than he intends, and as he looks up, the older boy stares him in the eye, the beginnings of tears beading at the corners, his eyes as big and round and misty. Zhengting sniffles, quiet enough that only Wenjun can hear, and he fights the urge to bring the pads of his thumbs up to wipe the tears away, conscious that the cameras are still rolling.

“I was _trying_ to be.”

_I know._

Wenjun can tell the older boy doesn’t feel great, the disappointment written all over Zhengting’s face, but as usual, the older boy persists, not letting such a minor setback throw him off-track, not even when the other boys tell him to take a rest, a break, something. But Zhengting holds himself upright with a pride that spurs him to keep working, to continue filming as if nothing worth mentioning has happened. And the result is that Wenjun worries, worries the entire afternoon, mixing up orders that are simple, entirely neglecting others, stealing anxious glimpses of the top of Zhengting’s head from the somewhat obscured view of the kitchen from his station every few minutes.

He doesn’t bother explaining as they wrap up, following Zhengting to the upstairs bathroom as the older boy takes off the bandages, carefully running his finger underwater as Wenjun unscrews the top of the iodine, his eyebrows scrunched together in concern as Zhengting gasps with each drop that touches his open skin.

Then they head back down to dinner, and Wenjun feels his chest ache as Jeffrey comforts the older boy, the faintest smile gradually returning to Zhengting’s face.

\---

Oh no.

Wenjun wishes he can go back in time and never agree to Zhengting’s suggestion to push their beds together. _Causing way too many problems. _His right arm is numb, pinned underneath Zhengting’s body with no hope of freedom. Wenjun can barely feel his fingers as he wiggles them, clenching them into a fist, hoping to get the feeling back in his arm. He had woken up spooning the older boy, Zhengting’s body fitting into the shape of his like a glove, his other arm wrapped casually around the older boy’s body, pulling him in closer.

He hopes he can extract himself before the other boy wakes up, the feeling of Zhengting pressed so tightly against him making his morning hard-on intensify, and Wenjun inches away, trying to put some distance between him and Zhengting’s backside.

“Can you hug me?”

Wenjun curses inwardly, not realizing that the older boy is awake already, regretting not pulling away sooner. He tries to slip away unsuccessfully, Zhengting’s hand grabbing on to his before he can leave, the sight of the bandage on the other boy’s finger making him relent slightly. The unbidden groan that is drawn out of him combined with the unmistakable erection pushed up against Zhengting causes him ramble, the need to make excuses spilling out of his mouth in an unpolished mess.

“It’s fine.”

Wenjun wonders what Zhengting means.

The thought is still on his mind when he sees the two of them coming back from shopping for food supplies, the multiple bags of groceries being solely handled by Jeffrey and Zhengting’s face lighting up with delight at the conversation, a lollipop firmly in his mouth, the obvious remainders of a meal contained in a take-out box in the older boy’s hands.

_A date._

Zhengting had once told him his idea of a perfect date, the culmination of every possible cheesy romance trope in the book making the older boy’s eyes glitter with excitement as Wenjun laughed lightly in response. Wenjun had just come back from a first date with a new girl, a friend of one of their acquaintances, and he had taken her out to a movie, a new release the girl had been supposedly dying to see. It had been so boring that the two of them had ended up making out in the back of theater for the entire duration of the latter half. Zhengting had scoffed at Wenjun’s “idea of a first date”, making a sweeping generalization that he didn’t have a strong enough taste for romance. Wenjun had shrugged it off at the time, rolling his eyes at Zhengting’s indignant expression, content with his night.

_Maybe Jeffrey will give Zhengting the romance he deserves. _

The idea makes him dizzy with dread.

\---

The dismay doesn’t go away as night falls, and he is still thinking of _it _when he hears Zhengting’s voice from the shadows, a quietly probing _Wenjun _at first and then a louder hiss. _Wenjun. _And he can barely make it out, but the older boy’s hand is so pale that Wenjun can see Zhengting with the moonlight streaming into their room, the older boy’s hand reaching out and searching for him. “I can’t fall asleep.”

Wenjun lets out a slow sigh. “Me neither.”

“Why can’t you fall asleep?”

_Because I think I might be losing you._

“No particular reason.”

“Do you want to play our game?”

When Wenjun had first joined Yuehua, he wasn’t used to the dorms, being so far away from the comfort of his own bed, the whole place a tad too quiet, the only sounds in the room were of the others breathing with the occasional snore. He hadn’t slept much the first week, and he didn’t think anyone had noticed, trying hard to mask his sleepiness during their practices over the course of the day, pinching the inside of his wrist to stay awake each time he found himself dozing off.

But Zhengting had.

The tenth night in, the older boy had whispered his name until he responded, asking him whether he was having trouble falling asleep. He admitted it, and then began their nightly game, with each of them taking turns to pick a category and then naming things that belonged in it until one of them couldn’t think of something to name next. And they would continue to switch categories until Wenjun became drowsy, falling asleep in the middle of their game. It was only later on that he realized that Zhengting had pushed himself to stay awake later and later into the night to help him fall asleep.

All because he cared.

“No, I don’t want to play our game.”

The silence between them stretches on, expanding and filling the room slowly as Wenjun becomes more and more tense, and finally, he’s unable to stand it, his question breaking the quiet.

“Are you interested in Jeffrey?”

It’s the longest pause he’s ever felt, and he needs to strain to hear the older boy’s next words, so soft that Wenjun nearly thinks he only imagined them.

“I don’t know.”

Wenjun wakes up with a splitting headache, the result of tossing and turning all night, unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Mostly because at every which way he moved, the presence of Zhengting still loomed. After all, he couldn’t possibly break out of his own head. He cracks open one eye, and the view of Zhengting sleeping invades his senses, the older boy turned towards him, the gentle slope of his nose and long eyelashes against the pale skin of his cheeks featuring prominently. And Zhengting’s mouth gapes slightly, the bit of drool at the corner causing a smile to grace his lips, and Wenjun wipes it away with his thumb, making sure not to wake the sleeping boy. The fondness wells up in him to an alarming degree, overflowing into sense of bitterness and regret as he pictures Zhengting’s potential future with someone else. He watches as Zhengting’s eyes flutter open slowly, like the wings of a butterfly uncurling in preparation for flight. And the older boy’s voice is laced thickly with sleepiness, the greeting mumbled as a reflex, out of habit.

“Good morning, Wenjun.”

It’s the way Zhengting says his name that breaks him, full of long nights and early mornings.

“Date me, Zhengting.”

He is blurting out the words before he can stop them, and in truth, he doesn’t want to, the urgency in his voice making him sound like a madman, but he lets his feelings all spill out anyways.

“I want to be with you. And I know I said no to you before, and now I know how stupid I was then to think that you _aren’t_ the one person I can’t live without. Because you are that person, you’ve always been that person, and you’ll always be that person. And I want to be _your _person, the one that takes you to see sunsets during park picnics and walks your dogs with you Sunday mornings and falls asleep with you on the couch halfway through movies. And whatever else that makes you happy.”

And he’s too busy continuing to outline every which way he wants to make it up to the older boy for being so shockingly blind and stupid that he just about misses Zhengting’s response, the one word only dawning on him after he has gone on a few extra beats past it.

“Okay.”

Wenjun stares in disbelief at the older boy, who is smiling back at him in unabashed joy. “Just okay?”

“Well, what do you want me to say? That I’m glad you finally came around? Or maybe that it took you two years too long to realize you can’t be without me? Or…” Zhengting laughs as he plants kisses over his face, the two of them tumbling backwards into the bed, their legs getting entangled in the sheets.

“Oh, and by the way, in your confession, you forgot to mention how attractive you find me, but I’ll let you off this time as long as you make it up to me later.”

His laugh makes Wenjun giddy.

Only Zhengting.

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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